


like water, lying (The Event Horizon Remix)

by brainofck



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Multi, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:42:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brainofck/pseuds/brainofck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here it is.  My brazen attempt to crack the <a href="http://www.kekkai.org/synecdochic/sg1/eurydiceverse.html">Eurydiceverse</a>, written for the Gateworld Remix event in 2007.  A remix of Synecdochic's fantastic <a href="http://www.kekkai.org/synecdochic/sg1/like_water_lying.html">like water, lying</a>.  As summarized by her:  <i>Jack comes back to Colorado for a visit and Cam thinks he's lost Daniel's attention for the week.  Except he hasn't, not at all.  And that's scarier.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	like water, lying (The Event Horizon Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Synecdochic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Synecdochic).



When I let a thousand genocides' worth of symbiote toxin fly off into the Milky Way just so that I could bring them back to me, I started planning my retirement that night. I thought maybe I'd go back to Minnesota, add on to the cabin, tune up the bike. You know, get out of the Springs for a while. Because God knows I couldn't be here, waiting, knowing what was happening a couple hundred yards under Cheyenne, and a couple hundred light years away.

It's funny. Even after all these years, I still can't think of myself as a valuable asset. Instead of kicking my ass out, they decided to promote me out of harm's way. After I got my head back from where it had gone in Minnesota, I took the transfer because I thought it could work. The same benefit of distance, with the added ability to help. Watch their backs. Protect them from the knives of the people they risked their lives to save every day.

And at the beginning, I thought distance from Daniel might be the most important thing I got out of the deal.

I knew about Mitchell. Of course, I knew.

If I had my own way, I would never know what Daniel did, sixteen hundred miles away, but Daniel won't leave it be. Daniel has never pretended to fidelity. I could never bring myself to ask for it. For Daniel to lie to me, for Daniel to prevaricate, would mean Daniel was ashamed. And Daniel is not ashamed. Daniel is ashamed of many things, but he is not ashamed of this. It took me a long time to understand that what Daniel is saying, every time he curls up with the telephone and narrates his conquests into my ear, is _look, look, I give you this: none of what I get from them can threaten what we have, because it can never be the same._

I found out about Mitchell on one of the bad nights. One of the nights when the phone visitation was long and painful and about _us_.

 _He reminds me of you, you know. Not who you are, but who you could have been. If things had gone differently. It makes me want to keep him safe._

 _Did you realize, when you sent him?_

 _Realize?_

 _How beautiful he would be, when he's begging._

 _No._

 _You should have. He's lovely_

 _You do remember I didn't send him to_ you _at all?_

I think Daniel knew, then, that he maybe had gone too far in the truth-telling this time. Because for the first time in all of these conversations, he sounded uncertain. Just a little.

 _It's not the same._

 _I guess not._

 _In almost every way, it's less. But in some ways, it's much much more._

So I knew all about Mitchell.

Daniel had never _tried_ to reassure me before. About anyone. Not even when he and Carter were fucking more often than Daniel and I were.

If he was reassuring me about Mitchell, it couldn't be a good thing.

Anyway, if I thought I wanted distance, I got it.

But there's something funny about distance and Daniel. Distance put an end to the problems of _having_ Daniel. God and goa'uld know that having Daniel could be like a knife in the gut on a bad day. But at some point distance became all about closing the gap and getting back to where I started from.

Maybe Daniel is a singularity and I fell past the event horizon long ago and distance is now meaningless in a space where the laws of physics no longer apply.

* * *

Daniel shut up about Mitchell and his beautiful begging after that, and I didn't ask about it. But I knew it must be ongoing, or Daniel would have mentioned that it stopped. So I was uncertain of the welcome I would receive, exactly, when I flew in for my first extended visit in months. Daniel's something different with Mitchell could make things complicated. I tried not to anticipate trouble.

But Daniel was so obviously thrilled to have me back in the Springs that I almost felt sorry for Mitchell. Then I _did_ feel sorry for him when Teal'c wouldn't let me out of his sight and Carter didn't even bother to make up excuses to hang around. Not to mention that she practically _glowed_ whenever I was in the room. And Daniel was worse.

So I made certain that Mitchell stayed part of the team - tried to be sure he didn't feel like he was just tagging along. Mitchell's a stand-up guy, and a good officer and a professional soldier and maybe I hadn't really intended for him to take over _my_ SG-1, but maybe he was the right person at the right time. It helped that when I was in the room, Daniel didn't have eyes for anyone but me.

So I'm a selfish bastard. Like we didn't all know that already.

But it's an old instinct, expecting the unexpected. Waiting for the good news to turn bad and being ready to step up when it does. So when we are sitting easy in Daniel's apartment, halfway through the verbal foreplay, running through the old conversations with new variations, but this time in person, without a continent between us, it's easy to pretend not to tense up when I hear the front door open. A glance at the clock on Daniel's cable box tells me it is _precisely_ 2100 hours.

Our visitor has a key and Daniel's expecting him. The only person it could possibly be is Mitchell. But Daniel doesn't go to greet him, and Mitchell moves through the dark kitchen and down the hall, to the bathroom from the sound of it, and doesn't stop to speak.

One thing about being out of the field. All the weird shit starts happening in your own living room. I feel the conversation morphing towards a good, solid Daniel rant about lack of funding for parts of the program with no direct military applications, and try not to listen for more movement from our visitor.

He reappears soon enough. I see him before he sees me.

It's shocking to see him, like visiting a friend and accidentally finding their porn still in the VCR. He's wearing nipple clamps, for Christ's sake, with a fucking chain between them. Not to mention cuffs made for instant bondage. The getup sends a surprising surge to my dick.

And a collar. Daniel's collar, I have to assume. The feeling I get seeing the collar is a little bit like the feeling when your engines cut out in the middle of a roll. You pull it out and get yourself flying again, but there's that moment...

His smile is relaxed and happy.

I suddenly want to shake Daniel and yell, _What the hell are you doing to us?_

Then Mitchell sees me, and the smile goes flat.

I've seen pure terror in a lot of places. Again, with the living room.

Then Daniel holds out his hand.

I'm playing it a little more cool than Mitchell is. But then, I've been dealing with Daniel longer. And I have more clothes on. I feel for the guy, I'm surprised to realize. On the one hand, I'm wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do, when Daniel presents his - what? Boy toy? Sub? Sex slave? – for my review. But on the flip side, Mitchell clearly trusts Daniel. A lot. That's what this type of relationship is about, right? I know what I would be thinking in Mitchell's place. There's a fucking _General_ on the couch and I'm standing here barefooted in a collar and cuffs with nipple chains on and my pants falling down...

He's gonna run for it. And suddenly, I don't want that. He's not the only one who trusts Daniel, though I suspect Mitchell's currently having a really interesting object lesson in exactly what trusting Daniel _means_. But I do trust Daniel, and Daniel is doing this, and so maybe Mitchell and I should let it happen.

So I step up, and do what I've always done. Fill in the gaps and make the crazy plan actually work.

"Daniel."

I say it gently, more for Mitchell's benefit than Daniel's.

Daniel gives a quiet snort of exasperation. He gestures impatiently for Mitchell to come in. He obviously wants Mitchell beside him and Mitchell obviously wants no part of whatever this is going to be. And for just a moment, all of Daniel's joy in seeing me is lost in the thought that maybe, _maybe_ , I am just part of some power game. A sex toy that pushes a few new buttons in Mitchell. And suddenly, just for a second, I'm the one seriously considering walking out.

"Daniel," I say again, because if this doesn't fall into place quickly...

"Oh, for the love of -- Cameron, come here."

Jesus _fucking_ Christ.

Mitchell apparently knows how to follow an order. He goes to his knees at Daniel's side. Back straight. Shoulders square. Neck bowed, just slightly. Crotch exposed.

"There," Daniel says. He pets Mitchell like the family Labrador, stroking his shoulder, his neck, rubbing a soothing thumb under the collar. It’s surreally domestic. "Relax," he says, very softly. "You're doing fine." Mitchell watches me though his lashes.

Daniel is clearly presenting him, so I look. It's not hard to imagine that Mitchell's pretty when he begs. I've never played these games. Daniel's not about pain. Not exactly. Just a little rough handling.

But Mitchell...

Actually, it's hard to tell. No marks on him. Knowing Daniel, the first thing he did was research and he's probably better at that kind of shake-down than I am at this point. I bet Daniel could make Mitchell scream and there wouldn't be so much as a fingerprint on him forty-eight hours later. Of course, there's the nipple clamps. Again, hard to tell, but I'm guessing they're not too serious.

As for the rest of it - the anklet and the cuffs and collar and whatever's going on down there between his legs. Well. Aside from the fact that it's fucking _hot_. That's not so much about pain as it is about giving up control. And I can see the appeal of that. Maybe even the balance.

"I told you, I've been trying to convince Hayes for weeks, but you spent so long trying to convince everyone that the boogeyman was coming that I guess you did your job a little too well." And Daniel huffs and we're back on track. Like any other evening, except Mitchell's kneeling there, letting Daniel fondle him and me look at him.

It's strangely easy. Daniel is happy and relaxed and there's a strong undercurrent of sensuality and sex that Mitchell's quiet presence brings to the occasion. I'm running through the conversation by rote trying to anticipate what the game is going to be and what part I might be willing to play.

I'm itching to touch him, but our relationship outside this room means that I absolutely cannot fuck him. There's a lot of stuff between one extreme and the other. My guess is that Daniel's got a plan that will land me somewhere in the middle. I'm getting a little up thinking about it. Mitchell's chin is resting on Daniel's knee. His eyes are closed, or maybe he would notice exactly how up I am.

Daniel's eyes drift, as he draws glyphs on Mitchell's shoulders. Daniel notices.

Daniel reaches down, right while he's in the middle of "--daughter, she got accepted at Berkeley and he called me up to see if I still knew anyone who might --" and pulls on the chain connecting Mitchell's nipples. I make myself not wince. That had to hurt. Not that Mitchell seems to mind in the slightest. He's up straight on his knees and whimpering as Daniel wraps his hand around the chain, keeping up the pressure.

"Cameron," Daniel says. "The General needs another beer."

Oh, Daniel is an evil, evil man. I maintain the pretext that Daniel and I are just talking, that Mitchell has nothing to do with me, keeping eyes front, focus on Daniel. But I see Mitchell's startled disorientation as he staggers to the kitchen, legs probably numb from sitting so long at Daniel's feet. I feel for the guy, I honestly do. Because I know that look in Daniel's eye, and he's about to up the ante.

Mitchell looks a little more centered when he comes back with the bottle, and I take it without looking at him, because I'm riding a buzz of light arousal and I don't want to screw it up trying to figure out how to acknowledge the services of a man in nipple clamps.

"That's because you're hopeless," Daniel says, though his attention is now on Mitchell. A little shake of the head, a narrowing of the eyes, and then Mitchell goes to his knees at my side.

"Look who's talking," I say, but I can see Daniel's flicker of amusement, like he could actually see the way my cock twitched, _hard_ , as Mitchell presented himself to me. I take what they are offering me, and touch him. I smirk at him when Daniel licks his lips.

"I'm allowed to be hopeless," Daniel says, and sex is in his voice now. I wonder how long he wants to maintain this flow of empty chatter. "I'm just the civilian. You're the one who's all important now."

Or not so empty. Gotta watch it, or the conversation could get real and ruin the fun. "And if I agree to that, you'll pitch the 'undervaluing my contributions, Jack' fit again."

Oh, here we go. Daniel leans back in the chair, hooks one knee around the arm, which pushes his hips forward like he's propositioning me. I feel Mitchell sway a little and realize maybe Daniel's ordering _him_ , but Mitchell doesn't make any further move. I like the feel of his skin and hair and muscle and bone under my fingers and I realize how long it's been since I touched anyone but Daniel.

"I don't think you undervalue me, Jack," Jackson says. "You know better than that by now."

"Yes," I agree, a little distracted. It's not just the strangeness of touching Mitchell like a lover and the way Mitchell is melting under my palm. There's also the collar. It's strange and alien and I suspect its meaning but it is so hard to connect that with Daniel and this man I'm touching.

"I stopped thinking you were hopeless a while ago. After I figured out that your hope looks like everyone else's insanity." I slide the collar through my fingers, wanting to know what the texture is against Mitchell's skin, and think about Daniel's sanity. I must be doing something wrong because Mitchell gets restless. I quit fiddling and lay my hand on the back of his neck to ground him.

"I'm perfectly sane," Daniel says. "I have a piece of paper saying so." And the fuck-me look he is giving me is completely unmistakable. I'm touching Mitchell, but with Daniel looking at me like that, I'm not thinking about anyone else anymore. Mitchell is a substitute. His skin is soft and smooth and warm, behind the ear, along the throat. The angle of his jaw is sweet and the grain of his beard shadow is strangely too soft.

If Daniel wants me to touch his boy for his amusement, I will. Maybe sanity is overrated.

"Bought it off the internet, did you? I told you those places were rip-off artists."

Daniel laughs, low and throaty. "Well, you know, nobody's called me crazy since you left. Did you ever stop to think it might be a personal bias?"

If I don't get to fuck him soon, there is going to be trouble. He wants it, too. Whatever is going on here has him so turned on he's practically touching himself through his slacks. I would never have guessed Daniel had this double kink of voyeurism and exhibitionism. Well, I've always been a sucker for giving Daniel exactly what he asks for in bed.

Whatever this is with Mitchell, whatever Daniel has in mind, I figure he wants to see Mitchell get handled a little. I let my fingers slide over Mitchell's neck, wrapping my hand around his trachea, getting a good firm hold, touching Daniel's collar on Mitchell's neck.

"They just don't know you like I do, Daniel."

Daniel lifts the half-finished bottle of beer he's still nursing, a concessionary salute. "No one does."

There's something about the way Daniel says it. Something about his eyes or his hands or his lips, I don't know. But suddenly, I know that Mitchell is not a threat, and distance is just a few miles, and maybe I can have something with Daniel - or be something for Daniel; or get something from Daniel - that is different than what we were before. Maybe better.

I suddenly don't care if Mitchell or Landry or, hell, the entire Jaffa Nation is here watching us. All I want to do is skip this little song and dance we're doing and take him to bed. I want to spend the rest of this week making love to him. At this moment I'd send the IOA a memo detailing my new itinerary in complete, pornographic detail.

But I'm touching Mitchell, not Daniel. Time for Daniel to get with the program. Mitchell's pulse is pounding under my palm. I draw his head back and expose that beautiful arch of vulnerability. Daniel may be able to spring new things on me, but I know how he feels about my hands pushing his body. He has a thing about my hands and fingers. I let him see them push Mitchell to the almost-breaking point instead. I let him see me touch that collar and that body.

It's just an odd side-effect that Mitchell is breathing hard, shaking under my hand, eyes a little startled, but glazing over. Daniel's right. Mitchell's surrender is a beautiful thing.

Of course, Daniel is almost always right. I tug at the ring on the front of the collar. Mitchell's eyes slide closed as he gives an almost silent groan. Daniel's out of his seat, finally.

Yeah. No one knows Daniel like I do.

"There's that," I agree. Because it's the truth.

"Cameron." Daniel says, in a voice that's all sex, but with a face that would fit in at the most routine, boring briefing. Mitchell's eyes, when they open, are unfocused, pupils blown. I leave my hand where it is, so that Mitchell's head is still tipped back against my leg. Daniel reaches down to touch him, too. Daniel lets himself feel the full arch of Mitchell's neck, running his own fingers delicately over Mitchell's lips, his jaw, his throat, until his fingers find mine for a whisper of a moment and then they are gone.

"Go get the lube, please," Daniel says. When I let him go, Mitchell whimpers, practically begging for it. I don't know what Daniel has planned exactly, but if there's lube involved all I can think is _about damned time_. Daniel is still touching Mitchell, gentle caresses, maybe to reassure him that the time is coming. I have to seriously resist the urge to slap the man on his pert little ass. But I absolutely do not resist when that chain between the clamps dangles right in front of my face. I give it a good tweak, and Mitchell looks like he might collapse back on the floor right there.

"Jack," Daniel says, in that fond “what am I going to do with you?” tone of his. Mitchell stumbles out on wobbly legs, headed for the bedroom and the lube.

I hope Daniel knows how far to push this. I want Daniel. And I _can't_ have Mitchell, even if that _was_ what I wanted. I just don't want to have to say it out loud. This is Daniel's show. I'm not even sure I'll try to draw the line if he asks me to go too far, but I will him to understand.

Then Mitchell is back. Daniel turns as he hears him. "Come here," he says, reaching out, and Mitchell only hesitates for a second before he does.

Daniel takes the bottle of lube from Mitchell and hands it to me. Mitchell's breath hitches. He's thinking too, I'd bet money on it – what lines he will cross if Daniel asks him. I fiddle with the lube bottle and wait.

 _Come on, Daniel,_ I think, even as the potential of the moment has my blood pounding into my cock so that I'm practically rock hard standing here, waiting for Daniel to let me know what he wants. _Don't screw this up. Get it right._

Then Daniel's hands are on Mitchell's shoulders, turning Mitchell around to face him. He lets Mitchell go and raises his arms.

There's a shift in Mitchell's mood. I can see the tension ease in his shoulders. He's breathing more easily. His attention is focused on Daniel now. Maybe that's the difference. He undresses Daniel with an ease and grace that makes me feel the jealousy all over again. Not that he's a threat. Just that even after all this time, knowing about all Daniel's lovers, I suddenly can't stand the experience in Daniel's bed that Mitchell's easy actions reveal. He drops to his knees as he undoes the buttons of Daniel's shirt, his face right in Daniel's crotch. He takes Daniel's pants down.

He kisses Daniel's cock.

I'm not sure I can watch Mitchell blow him. Daniel has a hand on Mitchell’s head, and he’s watching Mitchell work him. Mitchell knows all the tricks I know, and it makes me want to grab him by the hair and yank him off. He takes his time at the sweet spot just above the foreskin, the one that always makes Daniel lose control completely. But just when I think Daniel's going to make me witness this, he stops him.

Mitchell whimpers so pitifully, I almost feel bad for him. "Shh," Daniel says, giving Mitchell his sweetest smile. Jesus, what did the guy think he was doing, getting into it with Daniel? What did I think I was doing? Daniel rubs his fingertips along Mitchell's parted lips. "It's all right. Trust me."

Then Daniel looks at me and I relearn, yet again, as I have done a hundred times, that Daniel can always be trusted to get it right. In his own way. He's giving me the chance to make the next move here. It takes me all of a split second to decide. I can't go too much farther with Mitchell than I already have. I know I can't watch him and Daniel. Just can't. And right now, if I don't get Daniel on his back with my tongue down his throat pretty damned fast I won't be held responsible for the consequences.

Mitchell's wearing the cuffs. Obviously they're part of the game. I clip the latch before Mitchell even figures out what is going on, and then all I want is Daniel. I reach out and touch his naked chest.

There's something about kissing him tonight that makes me think of the early days. Maybe it's the long separation that comes with me living a continent away. Or maybe it's the strangeness of having another person in the room, one of Daniel's other lovers. But everything feels new, and I feel that protectiveness of him that I remember from back then. Despite the long tease, despite the fact that Mitchell is right there, despite everything, all I want to do is make Daniel feel good. Take him out of his head for a while. Take the time to make love to him long and slow until he gives up all that need to control and just lets me take care of him for a little while.

I'm stripping off and Daniel takes advantage of having his tongue back in his own mouth to say, "I need to talk to him."

 _Yeahsurewhatever_ , I think, but I just take a seat and give them space.

Daniel crouches in front of Mitchell, and God, he looks good. He's all muscle these days, and I can't wait to lay hands on that tight ass. I spread my knees a little to give myself room to grow. Mitchell doesn't help any. The look he gets on his face when Daniel lifts the chain up, taking the weight, makes me just that much harder.

"Cameron," Daniel says, "Shh," and drops the chain. Mitchell jolts forward like his body can’t help begging for more, and Daniel gives it to him – he squeezes his hard-on where it’s tenting his pants. Mitchell looks like he just got shot with a bolt of electricity. If Daniel keeps up this floor show… _Jesus_.

"I want you to watch. Just watch. Can you do that for me?"

I watch Mitchell struggle to find some brain cells. He finally manages to nod. Yes. He can watch.

Daniel smiles his approval, and I know he’s said he’s doing this, playing these games, because it’s what Mitchell needs, but I wonder if he realizes how much he really gets off on Mitchell’s obedience. "I'll explain later if I have to," he says, and then he turns Mitchell around, until he's facing the couch. Daniel wants Mitchell to see us. Mitchell, dressed for sex, wired for pain, restrained, is supposed to watch Daniel with me. Daniel touches him one last time, then Daniel's in my lap. He plants a fist on either side of my head, sinking a little into the cushions of the couch. He's grinning down at me with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile.

"Playing with fire, Daniel," I grind out as he brings he weight to bear on my cock.

"Hand me the matches," Daniel says, and we're kissing again.

 _For Mitchell's benefit,_ a small part of my brain reminds me. Mitchell has a front row seat from where he is on his knees. _But it's not like I wouldn't have been here, doing this anyway, Mitchell or no Mitchell_ , my dick tells my brain, so I dig my fingers into that touchable ass and let myself ride Daniel's wave. He's playing rough, biting into the kiss. Which is fine with me. When he drags his hands over my shoulders and chest it's so good. When he uses his fingernails on my nipples, though, I slap him hard on the ass. After a couple of months playing with Mitchell, maybe he needs a reminder. Pushing those buttons with me won't give him the same results. He knows how much I like to see a handprint here, a few bruises there.

"Behave," I remind him.

Daniel shivers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the look on Mitchell's face. _He's gonna come in those pants if I keep that up_ , I think. But only for a split second, because Daniel's rubbing off against my crotch, his dick leaving streaks wet heat on my jeans. I get a good grip on his naked ass and work with him a little, but Daniel's riding, and I don't mind letting him.

"I want to make you come while I'm fucking you tonight," I say. Daniel hums softly, like he's considering, which makes me want to laugh and spank him again at the same time. "I'm going to make you come while I'm fucking you tonight."

Then Daniel laughs, his head falling back, exposing his throat, daring me with mock submission. "You can try."

Which is true. I _can_ try, and it doesn't always work. But something about the way Daniel described it – that being fucked was "not a means to another" orgasm – it was a challenge to me. Lovemaking should not be a means to anything, and pleasure should be part of it, not incidental. Plus, I'm a _vain_ selfish bastard. It's an ego trip to get Daniel off. In any case, I'm motivated and I'm good at it, and if Daniel's turning this night into some sort of lesson for Mitchell, I'll even consider this a teaching opportunity.

I stroke along the front edge of Daniel's hip with my thumb. He loves it. It makes his cock twitch and leak. I glance up at Daniel but he's watching my hands, waiting to see what I'm going to do next. I smirk a little and instead of touching him, I start on my fly. Daniel catches me smirking and smiles to himself, scooting back and getting out of the way of progress.

Still, Daniel doesn't give up easily.

"Mmm," he says, and he's groping me through the fabric before I can even get all the buttons undone, making me catch his wrist with my free hand, as I keep flicking open buttons with the other. Daniel pops the last one loose with the hand I'm not holding.

"You're going to have to get off me for me to get these off."

Daniel laughs. "I like it any time you and getting off are in the same sentence." He rolls off me, and lies back, spreading himself wide open with one leg draped over the couch back and the other off the edge, foot planted on the floor.

Which really makes Mitchell part of the action, I realize, as I kick my jeans off. I suddenly have a what-the-fuck moment.

There's Daniel, beautiful, amazing, maddeningly frustrating Daniel, splaying himself open for both of us to see. And Mitchell – he's hard, and has been since Daniel started petting him, dick making itself a nice tent in those sweats, a wet dark spot to show exactly how he feels about all this. He can't touch, but he's close enough to Daniel right now that he could lean over and kiss him.

 _Fuck._ Daniel and his fucking ideas.

I'm about to do this with Mitchell breathing down my neck and I'm looking at Daniel right now and I'm not sure I even care. I'm not sure it even matters to me. And it certainly doesn't seem to matter to Daniel, who's right there next to the guy and who's so focused on me it's like Mitchell's not even in the room anymore. Oh, definitely a what-the-fuck event.

I reach down and get a good grip on myself inside my boxers. Daniel makes a happy humming noise and moves his heel from the back of the couch to my shoulder. I can't finish getting naked fast enough. Daniel feels fantastic under me, as I settle down on him, and he tastes even better, as I get my mouth on his body, his shoulder, his neck, his jaw. Daniel wraps himself around me and it's perfect, his heels locked behind my knees, holding me there, pinning him down, but also Daniel's captive, Daniel's to touch and feel.

I finally break the full body press enough to get my hand on his cock. I work him with long, slow strokes, breathing against his shoulder, until his neck arches back under my lips and I can't resist putting my teeth to his skin. When I reach down and get a finger on his hole, he comes off the couch, sobbing. _It's already a done deal_ , I think. I start opening him up, but he's already loose, like he planned for this. The lube is under him on the cushion and it's easy to slick him up while he moans and humps up against me.

Over all the years, I have never gotten tired of this.

"Beautiful," I whisper against his skin. I don't even have to see his face to know he's got that not-here look he always gets when he's getting fucked. I press my face into his shoulder as I put my cock against his hole and slide in like his body is welcoming me home.

I make love to him deep and slow, the way I know will almost always make it happen for him, if I can be patient enough and last long enough and push him hard enough. Daniel's speaking in tongues, Abydonian, which is more than enough to tell me I'm getting it right. When he turns his head to look at Mitchell, I remember he's in the room with us for the first time in what seems like hours. I can't see Daniel's face, but I see the way that Mitchell reacts, and I suddenly know why Daniel wanted him to see.

Daniel reaches out and touches him, runs his fingers over Mitchell's lips again, the way he did earlier. Mitchell flicks his tongue against Daniel's fingers, his face so open... Daniel says _mine_ and _need him_ , though it's still not in English. The syllables are slurred and foggy. I don't know if he's talking about me or Mitchell, and I don't care. The catch between words makes me lift up on an elbow to look at him. He's gone far away. It's time. I get my knees under me, lift Daniel up onto my lap and start pumping, driving for that spot, pushing him hard. The noise Daniel makes then is exactly what I want to hear, a light, ecstatic moan. Mitchell hears it, too. He's obscenely sucking Daniel's first two fingers and Daniel is moving faster towards coming than he ever has doing this. I take his cock gently in hand.

The touch makes Daniel freeze, body going rigid, his eyes locked vacantly halfway across the room.

I think Mitchell's a little freaked when I don't stop. Come on, Danny boy, it's just getting good. I lift his heels up over my shoulders and fold him in half. The change in angle tightens him down on me hard. Every part of me is protesting now. I'm getting too old for couch sex, but God, he's beautiful, pinned and held and _mine_. I sometimes wonder if that's what finally gets Daniel off when we do it this way. I rub his cock, tight and rough, timing the upstrokes so that they end when I'm deepest inside him.

"Let it go, Daniel," Command voice. He howls. That's my Daniel. I stop, completely still now, and ride it out, waiting for him.

"Aiwa," Daniel practically sings. He drops his head back against the cushions and explodes, hot, thick fluid on my hands, smearing over his heaving chest.

I wait for him, while he breathes. The wait for Daniel to come back from an orgasm like that is excruciating. My muscles are starting to shake from the strain and I know I'll be feeling this every hour of every goddamned meeting tomorrow, when Daniel finally licks his lips, swallows, and comes back into focus. I give him a little nudge. Just a reminder. Daniel finally looks at me and nods.

It's so good, finishing this way. Daniel braces himself with the leg not trapped by the couch and works with me, and it's rough, hard, hot, wet, tight rutting and it's amazingly good, like it always is. I try to keep some focus on him, and he's watching me, pushing up against me hard and harder, fingers wet with Mitchell's spit playing through my hair and when I come I bite him hard enough to bruise the inside of that perfect thigh and it's forever before I'm done.

Mitchell shifts and moans a little. I wonder what's going on inside those sweats that the man hasn't come already, the way he was sucking Daniel's fingers.

"Come here," Daniel says, voice rough and scratchy, and slides his hand over Mitchell's shoulder. Mitchell rises to his knees and turns so that Daniel can fumble the latch of the handcuffs, letting Mitchell's wrists fall apart.

That's gotta hurt.

"Crazy," I mutter, as I take advantage of the sweet soft skin on the inside of Daniel's thigh, just above his knee, kissing the bite I left there, tasting his sweat.

Daniel shifts under me, making himself more comfortable, letting me settle down on top of him, my cock still inside. Daniel may mock me for being an old man, but there are advantages to age and experience, and he's said more than once how much he likes being penetrated after, his ass held open, his body holding me. When I'm finally comfortable, I'm looking Mitchell in the eye, face to face, and it's an odd juxtaposition, facing off with this man who is a colleague, a fellow officer in my chain of command, who is now my lover's lover. My lover, after this. _Don't screw this up_ , I want to say to him. I want to make it an order. A mission brief. _Don't screw Daniel up_. And I think maybe he does get it. It makes me want to smile, a little, and remember how I chose this man in the first place and that Daniel decided to choose him, too.

"Mmm," Jackson hums. He holds me tight against him with one arm and uses the other to leave a trail of goosebumps down Mitchell’s arm. "Cameron."

I do smile then, though neither of them notices. _Cameron_ is all Daniel's now, and I can hardly blame him, considering. He rises on his knees as Daniel slips his fingers under Mitchell's waistband. I can tell when Daniel gets his hand around Mitchell's cock, because his eyes practically roll back in his head. Daniel can be ruthless when he wants to be. He's jerked me off fast and hard more than once, and I doubt I was _ever_ as wound up as Mitchell is right now. Mitchell's biting his lip and rocking into it, leading with his hips, back arched, and those fucking clamps must hurt now, but Mitchell doesn't seem to care as the chain swings and pulls against his chest. He's whimpering, moaning. Loud in bed, I'd bet. Just like Daniel.

Daniel's only got one hand free, but I'm guessing Mitchell could use a little more. That fucking chain. I pull the chain, pop the screws, and Mitchell comes screaming in Daniel's hand. Weird shit. Living rooms. SG-1. What can you do?

It's possible we killed him. He slumped over, nose mashed into Daniel's hip. It's sweet, in a twisted sort of way. I feel the urge to touch him and take care of him. I play with his soft hair as Daniel keeps touching him other places. I peer over the edge of the couch to figure out what the hell he's doing down there.

Damn. He's been in a ring this all time. Daniel's an evil, sadistic bastard. I close my eyes and let myself be soothed by his heartbeat. Mitchell shuffles around, and I hear him lying down on the floor.

"We're gonna feel like hell in the morning if we don't move to the bed," I mutter to Daniel. But nobody answers me. I think they're both asleep already.

Typical. I ease off of Daniel, and carefully step over Mitchell where he's completely passed out on the floor. There are washcloths where they always are. I dampen them in hot tap water, and give myself a good look in the bathroom mirror while I clean myself up.

I just fucked Daniel Jackson in front of a fellow officer. Whatever people may have suspected before, whatever Daniel may have told Carter or Teal'c, nobody actually had any proof of _anything_ between me and Daniel before tonight. Not to mention I just fucked that fellow officer – or at least as good as.

But I can look myself in the eye and realize that I feel calm. Happy. Lighter than I have in weeks.

I take the cloths out to the other room. Mitchell first. He's flat out on his back, head tipped to one side. I slip the sweats the rest of the way off his legs, then look him over. Really look at him. Strong long arms, broad chest, narrow waist, long legs to go with the rest of the package. I sit next to him and pick up one forearm, working the buckles on the cuff. It must be a bitch to put on, if Mitchell puts them on himself. I get the other one off him and he's still out cold. They're nice. Soft and comfortably lined with sheepskin. I set them aside and wipe him down with one of the wash cloths. He mutters in his sleep and twists around so that his back is to me. I shrug. Best I can do.

Daniel's next. He sleeps through it, too. I take Mitchell's stuff back to the bedroom, grab blankets and a pillow for Mitchell. As an afterthought I pull a pair of sweats out of my duffel and toss them onto the coffee table so Mitchell will have something to wear when he wakes up. I get them both tucked in before I climb back onto the couch and Daniel.

He protests in his sleep. A few _ow's_ and one _you're crushing me_ , then we're snug together and he's asleep again, warm and trusting and real in my arms. I let myself think about how much I miss him, and will miss him when I'm back in DC. Then I let that go and just rest in the happiness of this moment.

* * *

"Morning," I say, when Mitchell stops in the doorway. "Pancakes?"

"Uh," he says. "Sure."

"Coffee's up," I say. "Grab me a refill. Black, two sugars."

Ah. The morning after. Haven't had one of these in a while. But Mitchell seems to be handling it OK, so I cook pancakes and let him make the conversation. I've always sucked at small talk.

He brings me coffee and takes a sip of his own.

"I'm surprised you managed to find anything to eat in here."

I make a face at that.

"I know better by now. Bring groceries with me." I look at him and I see the same exasperation I used to feel before I figured it out. Brothers-in-Daniel. Or something.

Mitchell looks down nervously at his coffee mug, then goes over to sit at the table. Apparently the small talk is over.

"How hungry are you?" I ask him, wondering if I'm going to have enough here to feed both of them.

"Uh. I could eat," Mitchell says.

 _Great. So helpful,_ I think to myself. I flip three pancakes onto a plate.

"Thanks," he says.

"Welcome." I hand him the syrup. "Let me know if you want more."

He drinks coffee. He pours syrup. He eats pancakes.

And he cracks.

"Look, I just wanted to let you know, sir --"

"Aaht!" I put up a hand to stop him. "Off duty. Jack." Gotta draw some boundaries, here.

Mitchell winces a little and regroups.

"I just wanted to let you know -- I don't want to fuck anything up here. You say the word, I'm gone."

It makes me want to grin. Ah, Daniel. Always falling for us eloquent types.

Instead, I lean against the counter and I give him the eyebrow. "I know. If I didn't think that, you wouldn't be on the team."

The way his eyes go wide and his mouth hangs open, I think the guy's having an aneurism or something. He starts trying to stammer some kind of response and I cut him off.

"Mitchell. You're a smart guy. You've obviously figured out by now that we all blew the frat regs from here to hell and gone years ago. Do you think I'd put you in a position to fuck with any of my team if I didn't think you couldn't handle it?"

That's a hard one for him to take. But I need to be clear with him now, what's going on here, because even if I said "off duty" earlier, we need to walk out of this place knowing exactly where we stand. I shut up and move the next batch of pancakes from the griddle to my plate and let the gears turn.

"I," he says, and then stops. Then tries again. "I have absolutely no idea what to say to that."

I go and sit across from him and start on my breakfast.

"Don't need to say anything. Just make sure you really know what you've gotten yourself into. I'll trust you to know when you get in over your head."

And that is absolutely true. I may not have deliberately given him my kids, and I certainly never intended to _give_ him Daniel, but maybe somewhere in my head, just like always, I was thinking worst-case-scenario when I picked this guy, because here in the bright light of day, I think I made a choice I can live with without even knowing what I was doing.

I watch more gears turn. Mitchell's more than a little freaked, but I have more to say.

"Because you're going to get in over your head." I notice I'm fidgeting with my fork and realize that maybe Mitchell's not the only nervous one here. "Daniel sees things at a ninety-degree angle from the rest of the world. You'll keep running head-first into it until you learn to stop throwing yourself at the wall. But he's not as okay as he thinks he is, and he's never telling the whole truth, and you have to keep that in mind."

It feels a little bit like I'm handing Daniel off to him. I don't like it. It makes me think about distance and warped space.

Mitchell scrubs at his face with his hands, maybe trying to wake himself up from the bad dream. "Why are you telling me this?"

I sigh. Why the fuck _am_ I doing this to us? "Because Daniel doesn't belong to anyone but Daniel. And he needs more than he'll ever admit, and he's capable of dragging you in with him, and you can't let him do that. Or else it _will_ fuck with the job, and if that happens, I _will_ come back out here and fix it."

There. That's why. I take another bite of my pancakes and push the plate away.

"End of lecture," I say, getting up from the table. "You done with that?"

Mitchell's looking a little green around the gills. Well, it's not every day you have these kinds of conversations and veiled threats over breakfast.

"Yeah," he says.

I take his plate with mine and head for the sink, but it feels wrong. Like I've done this wrong. I go back and reach out and touch him. The kind of touching you don't do with colleagues or fellow officers or even close friends. I take his chin in my hand and tip his face up so that he has to look at me.

"Take care of him for me." I ask him. Because that's what I really wanted to say.

"I will," he says softly.

I nod and kiss him and go put the plates in the sink.


End file.
